


For The Contest of Love And Strife

by WolfieOnAO3



Series: The Brewer's Dictionary of Short Stories [9]
Category: Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, M/M, Sort Of, Soulmates, ancient philosophy, ancient sicily, empedocles - Freeform, greek philosophy - Freeform, heavy handed philosophy turned to the purposes of shipping, love and strife, the four elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23720491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieOnAO3/pseuds/WolfieOnAO3
Summary: ‘For the contest of Love and Strife are equal and alike, and yet each has a different prerogative and its own peculiar nature. They gain the upper hand in turn, when each time comes around. Running through one another, they become now this, now that, and like things evermore. For even as they were before time, so too shall they always be. Nor ever will boundless time be emptied of that pair. For they find themselves inevitably bound.’- Empedocles, Fragments. (Wellmostly...Crowley and Aziraphale attend a philosophical lecture by Empedocles.For the Brewer's prompt: Air
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Brewer's Dictionary of Short Stories [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1691002
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	For The Contest of Love And Strife

**Author's Note:**

> _Air_  
>  _Held by Anaxagoras (c.500-428 BC) to be the primary form of matter and, by Empedocles and Aristotle, to be one of the four elements._  
>  \- Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable

‘Aziraphale?’

The angel turned with a start towards the voice calling hesitantly out from behind him. As his eyes found their target, the muscles of Aziraphale’s face shifted minutely, almost unobservably, from a position of suspicious alarm to welcome recognition. 

‘Ha! I thought it was you!’ The demon Crowley, with a smile entirely too bright to be decent, hopped down a few rows of seats in the lecture hall and draped himself on the seat just behind and to the side of the angel. He leaned forwards on his elbows ‘Fancy seeing _you_ here.’

Aziraphale’s gaze flickered over the demon’s form, his attire fashionable yet understated, an ideal image of the contemporary cosmopolitan Sicilian. He nodded with appreciative approbation. ‘I could say the same of you. You are looking well, my dear. I dare say this climate suits you.’

Crowley preened a little at the implied compliment. ‘Yeah, well, warm, isn’t it? And not so busy as Athens. Didn’t like Athens.’

‘Oh?’

‘Mm. So,’ he said with a sniff and a nonchalant glance around the rapidly filling lecture theatre. ‘You a _fan,_ then?’

‘Of Empedocles? Not precisely. He’s certainly an…’

‘Interesting bloke?’

‘Indeed. Quite fascinating, really. One moment he is coming up with quite brilliant, if misguided, theories on the makeup of the universe and going out of his way to assist the poor--’

‘--And the next he’s declaring himself a God on Earth.’

‘I am somewhat concerned for him, to tell you the truth. Lately he has been making overtures to the tune that the firey wrath of Hephaestus himself couldn't touch him...’

‘Can’t see that ending well.’

No, me neither, although one tries to remain hopeful that common sense will triumph.’

‘What’s he talking about today, then?’

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Oh, no, yes, of course I do. That’s why I’m asking you. Because I already know the answer. That’s how normal questions go, right?’

‘No need to be like _that._ It is rather odd to turn up to a lecture without having any idea of the subject matter, dear boy.’

Crowley shrugged. ‘Didn’t have anything else on today, so. I enjoyed his series about _the four elements_ , saw he was doing something else, thought it was worth a punt.’

‘His four elements theory was very compelling, wasn’t it? Metaphorically, if nothing else. This series builds upon that, so I’ve heard.’

‘I wonder whether he--’ 

Crowley found himself cut off by cheers and claps as they began rippling through the audience. A ridiculously overdressed man swaggered onto the stage, gesturing magnanimously at the audience, holding up his hands in what was clearly supposed to appear as benevolent and humble acknowledgement of their shouts of praise and adulation. 

‘Bloody hell’ Crowley muttered. ‘What on earth is he wearing?’

‘The King of Tyre’s cast offs, by the look of it,’ Aziraphale muttered back, making Crowley snicker and earning them both some disapproving shushes from other audience members around them.

‘The universe,’ Empedocles grandly began, sending reverent hush reverberating across the theatre, ‘is made up of but four constituent parts. Hear first the four roots of all things: shining Zeus, life-bringing Hera, Aidoneus and Nestis whose tear-drops are a well-spring to mortals. These are, respectively, Fire, Air, Earth, and Water. It is of these four things from which all mortal things arise.’

‘Those of you who have attended my discussions upon this matter shall know and understand this well. And yet, if these Roots are, as I have demonstrated, simple and eternal, _unalterable_ , even, then from where and by what cause do we see the _changes_ in our universe which are a prerequisite for life?’

‘One part of this, as I have previously discussed, is the intermingling of these Four Roots. The separating, the combining, and the integration of these four inherently and integrally disparate forms.’

‘Allow me, if you will, to bestow upon you all this, the latest in my line of remarkable, wonderful, and universally significant philosophical discoveries.’

Crowley leaned forward and whispered in Aziraphale’s ear, ‘Gosh, humble chap, isn’t he?’

Aziraphale smirked in spite of himself and leaned backwards, tilting his chin upwards towards the demon and whispering back, ‘What do you expect of a man goes about telling people he is an “immortal god”? Now do be quiet!’

With a quick, playful jab between the angel’s shoulder blades, the demon turned his attention back to the purple-clad _god_ on the platform.

‘I will now tell you a tale of two parts, my worthy acolytes. At one time it grew to be but one of many, at another it was divided to be many instead of one. The coming together of all things brings one generation into being, whilst also destroying it.Things grow, and things divide, but they never cease _moving_. Continually changing places, they are at one time all united by Love, and at another time separated by Strife. And it is of Love and Strife, my good people, that I intend to speak to you today.'

'Love and Strife. Opposites bound to one another; forces at war and yet locked in eternal union, never one defeating the other, never one _without_ the other. And all of Being being equally bound to both Love and Strife as a pair.’

‘Strife, Chaos, Rebellion, Questioning are the means of separation, new branches being sent off in all directions, innovation and exploration. Love, Harmony, Obedience, Acceptance are the means of unification, of re-combination, of disparate pieces drawing close to create something entirely new. Can you not, even in your own mundane, mortal, worthless lives see the power of these two forces acting upon every facet of your existence? That such opposites go hand in hand, one enhancing the other, one allowing the other to exist, indeed, both allowing all things to exist? Such it is with the universe. Such it is with the very Roots of Being, for Love and Strife exert their powers over even the Air and the Water and the Fire and the Earth. Bringing together and dividing. Forcing separation, forcing combination, and forcing integration.'

Strife and Love are the additional Two to the quartet of the Four Roots. They are as intrinsically bound to these physical and mortal components as though they were physical and mortal themselves, despite being endless and immortal. And should one exist without the other, all life should cease. Should one reign victorious, all life would cease. All of the variation, the infinite diversity in infinite combination so essential to life, all should become extinct should this integral pair cease to work alongside one another in the great Vortex and Whirl of Being.

‘For the contest of Love and Strife are equal and alike, and yet each has a different prerogative and its own peculiar nature. But they gain the upper hand in turn, when each time comes around. Running through one another, they become now this, now that, and like things evermore. For even as they were before time, so too shall they always be. Nor ever will boundless time be emptied of that pair. For they find themselves inevitably bound. By love. Clinging _love_.’

And so he continued for another hour.

Eventually great cheer went up from the puzzled looking audience as the great Empedocles took an ostentatious bow. 

‘Huh,’ Crowley said.

Aziraphale nodded, distantly. ‘That was, um...’

‘Interesting.’

‘Quite.’

They lapsed momentarily into a thoughtful, vaguely uncomfortable silence as the lecture theatre slowly began to empty around them.

‘Funny, really,’ Crowley said, delicately, ‘how we keep bumping into each other like this.’

Aziraphale fiddled with the hem of his toga. ‘Well, it’s a small world, I suppose.’

‘I’m not, er, complaining about it. Er. It just seems a bit--'

'Inevitable?'

‘I was going to say "funny", but yeah. That too. Um.' Crowley cleared his throat. ‘Er, well, I suppose I, er. Had better be, well, you know. Places to be. People to tempt. _Strife_ to stir up.’

‘Oh. Yes. Yes, me too. Or, rather… Miracles to perform. Harmony to spread. _Love_ to…’ the angel waved a hand, ‘...you know.’

Neither made a move to leave.

‘That Empedocles,’ Crowley said, suddenly, ‘I don’t think he has a clue what he’s on about, angel.’

Aziraphale glanced up at the demon and smiled uncertainly. ‘Oh. Yes. No. Clearly. He’s evidently, ah, how do they put it? _Gone off the deep end_?’

Crowley grinned back, and Aziraphale felt his own wavering little smile grow bolder and brighter in spite of himself. 

‘Oh, clearly,’ the demon agreed. ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. Wouldn't surprise me at all if he went and jumped into Mount Etna as his next philosophical display.’

Crowley stood, and offered a hand to Aziraphale, who took it. ‘Come on. We’d better make ourselves scarce before they throw us out.’

‘That wouldn’t be terribly dignified, would it?’ He paused. ‘Um. You don’t have to rush off _right away_ , do you, old chap? It’s just that I do know this _lovely_ little taverna, only a short walk from here. _Excellent_ wine.’

‘Are you asking me?’

A glimmer of wickedness flashed through Aziraphale’s bright eyes, making Crowley inadvertently tighten his grip on the angel’s hand, which he hadn't yet managed to let go of. 

‘Well,’ Aziraphale said, ‘Empedocles seems to think it is inevitable.'

**Author's Note:**

> I can only apologise to Empedocles for the shocking liberties I have taken with his philosophies, and the fragmented quotes I have used quite out of context. Completely bastardised his ideas. Sorry, bud.
> 
> Also, in case you were wondering, Empedocles really did die when he jumped into the Sicilian volcano, Mount Etna, or so the legends say, anyway. He thought it wouldn't hurt him because he was a God. He was wrong. 
> 
> ...Presumably, anyway. If not, then I have just totally pissed off a God.


End file.
